Full Moons, Dunes & Macaroons_A Cozy Witch Mystery

by Erin Johnson

  I nudged the woman beside me again. "So… all this secrecy. You'd be in big trouble if you got caught meeting like this?"

  She nodded, her eyes wide. "We could be thrown in Carclaustra, like Lilya's brother."

  I gulped.

  "And you're here too, you know. You're risking just as much as the rest of us, even if you are a foreigner." She looked me up and down.

  Guess I did kind of stand out with my bright red hair and pale skin. Suddenly the rattling base beat cut out and Lilya and the rest of us froze. My eyes slid up to the low ceiling. A few sets of footsteps thudded across the floor and a man barked out orders.

  The woman beside me hissed a curse. I lifted my brows and she mouthed, "Police." My shoulders bunched up and my stomach clenched in fear. Oh no, I'd really done it this time. If I got arrested and sent to Carclaustra… I shook my head. How could I explain this? And what would happen to Lilya and all the others?

  Lilya muttered, "Time to go. Quiet now." We shuffled forward and moved toward the back of the basement, slowly and quietly.

  I lifted my brows and the woman beside me whispered, "There's a back way out. We always make sure there is. Someone must have spilled about the meeting."

  Knocks thundered against the door at the top of the stairs and the group broke into chaos, forgetting all attempts at silence. Lilya held the metal door at the back of the room ajar and everyone poured out.

  CRACK!

  I looked back over my shoulder as bodies slammed into me from the right and left, jostling to get out. Booted feet jogged down the rickety stairs into the basement.

  "They broke the spell!" a woman screeched.

  Panic coursed through me as I was shoved out the door by others behind me into the warm night air. Meeting members fled down the alleyway, to the right and left. Shouts sounded from behind and I froze, panicked.

  A strong hand clenched around my upper arm and yanked me hard to the side.

  "Come with me," a hoarse voice commanded.

  11

  A Fly on the Wall

  I sucked in a huge lungful of air to scream, but when I opened my mouth no sound came out. A low chuckle came from the dark figure who held my arm in a vice and dragged me down a dark alley, away from the shouts and clamor of the bar raid.

  "It's a muffling spell." He clicked his tongue. "You should know how to break out of something so simple by now."

  I recognized the voice—Horace. The tightness in my chest relaxed. He dashed behind a dumpster and towed me behind. We pressed our backs up against a crumbling plaster wall as officers ran by the mouth of the alley, shouting orders. Once their voices faded, he nodded.

  "You can talk again." He lifted a brow. "Just don't scream."

  I pressed a few fingertips to my throat. "I didn't know it was you." I blinked up at him. As my eyes adjusted to the dark of the night, his high cheekbones became visible below the shadows of his deep-set eyes. "How did you know where I was?"

  He sniffed. "At a meeting for a subversive group?" He gave a slow blink. "I think I'm starting to rub off on you."

  I grinned. "I've decided to investigate Bernhardt Beckham's murder. I followed a servant who works at the palace here, I had no idea what the meeting was for." I sighed. "She's not really a suspect anymore, though."

  We stood in silence for a few moments. Some rat or other little creature rustled through a pile of litter nearby and the shouts of officers grew more distant.

  "Why are you looking into dear Bernie's murder?"

  "Ah. I got kicked out of the bakery." I rubbed the back of my neck. "I may have accidentally ruined a bake. It's just been a, a weird time for me, lately. I decided I'd be useful and see what I could suss out." I shrugged. "Instead, I've just ended up almost getting arrested. Oh, and I revealed a secret to a reporter." I sighed and stared down at my booted feet.

  Horace said nothing for several long moments. I figured he'd realized what a loser his long-lost sister was.

  "Who's your next suspect?"

  I looked up in surprise. "Oh. I uh—don't really have one. I thought the journalist did it, then Lilya, the woman who works in the palace. But now I'm not so sure." I shook my head.

  "No one comes to mind?"

  I swallowed and mulled over what I knew. "Well. When I was in the tent earlier today, I overheard Urs Volker. It seems he's become warden of Carclaustra Prison now. And he said that he'd personally put the protection spells in place around Bernhardt's tent, so he had access and a motive."

  Horace folded his arms. "Seems you do have a lead." He swallowed and his Adam's apple bobbed. "When are you going to look into him?"

  I choked. "Into Urs Volker? The guy is scary."

  Horace lifted one brow ever so slightly. "You're in a dark alleyway with the number-one most wanted criminal in all the kingdoms, and you're scared of Urs Volker?"

  I grinned. "Yeah, but… you're my brother."

  He leaned back, his face disappearing into deep shadow so that I couldn't see his expression, but he stayed quiet for several moments.

  "Imogen, it's criminal how little you know of your power. Do you want to know how I knew you were here? I followed you." He leaned forward, the dim moonlight barely filtering between the narrow buildings to cast light on the sharp planes of his face. "I am always in disguise. As swallows we are uniquely capable of convincingly and consistently appearing to be something we are not."

  In a blink, my brother disappeared and Urs Volker took his place. I gasped and recoiled. I scrambled backward, knocked into a crate, and sent a few mice skittering away. Horace's face returned.

  My chest heaved. "You startled me."

  "Disguises go beyond what they think we are capable of. What I'm about to show you, you can't tell anyone about it. If you think wearing another's face scares them, how do you think they'd feel about this?"

  I wasn't sure who he meant by they, but he should probably include me in that group. I'd been frightened by how quickly he turned from my brother into the pale and intimidating Urs Volker.

  In a flash, Horace disappeared. My stomach dropped. He hadn't just changed his face this time, he'd erased it, and the rest of him.

  "We can go invisible?" I barely breathed the words.

  Meow.

  I jumped back, startled to find a black cat sitting at my feet, staring up at me. I took a breath, then another. Was this Horace? Or would I sound completely ignorant to my brother (wherever he was) if I started speaking to an alley cat? I licked my lips.

  "Um, hey kitty or… brother?"

  The cat nodded.

  I gasped and pressed my hands to my mouth. Then I crouched down beside him. "Sea snakes! It's really you?"

  Instinctively, I reached a hand out to scratch his head and the cat hissed, revealing needle sharp fangs. I recoiled. "Yeah, it's you." He was almost as scary as Maple and Wiley's shared pet, Cat, who was notably not a cat. They'd left him at home in Bijou Mer with Maple's family. The kids got a kick out of him, and even though her dad shouted about it, he had a soft spot for the little monster.

  The hairs on my arms rose, as if by static electricity. I blinked and when I opened my eyes, found myself staring at a pair of man's legs in black pants. I tipped my head up and found Horace looming over me once again. I rose back up to standing tall.

  "You hissed at me."

  He folded his arms. "I just turned into a cat and that's all you have to say?"

  I shook my head. "No. I just don't know what to say. That was incredible." I frowned. "Hank hasn't mentioned that spell."

  Horace scoffed. "He probably doesn't know it's possible. Again, this is a secret. It makes us as dangerous and worthy of revulsion as a shifter to them."

  Again, the "them."

  "I've been able to follow you anywhere, Imogen, undetected."

  I looked down and wrapped my arms around myself, not sure if I felt totally comfortable with that.

  "It's how I was able to keep you safe tonight."

  I looked up and nodded. "Tha
nk you, for that. I don't feel as comfortable wearing a disguise as you do, though, even if it's for good reason."

  He lifted a brow. "Even if you could do so to spy on Urs Volker?"

  Cold shot through my stomach. "Like pretend to be one of his officers?" I shook my head. "I'd be afraid of getting the accent wrong or that he'd speak German and I wouldn't know how to respond."

  Horace groaned. "You're thinking small." He smirked. "Or maybe not small enough."

  He disappeared again. In the space his head had just occupied, a fat black horsefly flew in lazy loops and circles, and after a few seconds, Horace reappeared.

  My jaw dropped. "You were the fly?"

  "You could spy on him. As a fly, a lizard, a mouse—anything you wanted, and go undetected. No German necessary." He gave a short sniff. "Though there's a spell for that too."

  I chuckled. "A mouse? My luck, I'd get distracted by cheese and end up stuck in a trap."

  Horace leaned against the wall again and leveled me a look. His dark eyes glinted. "Well, the flying creatures are more fun anyway."

  "You mean, I could fly?" A huge smile stretched across my face. "I've always wanted to fly."

  "I'll teach you." He pushed off the wall.

  "Oh." My eyes widened. "You mean… now? Here?"

  He shrugged. "A dark alleyway seems like the perfect place to learn some secret magic to me."

  I grinned. "Okay." But then, remembering some of my past lessons with Hank, my stomach sank. "Just to warn you, I'm not the fastest learner."

  "I've already given you lessons, remember? In the gypsy wagon."

  "Oh, yeah." I glanced down. When I was with Horace, I felt safe. I saw my brother, not the wanted criminal. But that reminder that he'd killed the strongman and taken his place in the carnival filled me with unease. I shifted and bit my lip. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea, spending time with Horace.

  "And I beg to differ. You learned quite fast." He shrugged. "If we'd grown up together, I would have taught you all kinds of things."

  I swallowed against a lump in my throat. No matter who he was to the rest of the magical world, to me, he was my brother. And learning I was magical, struggling to control my powers, always feeling behind and slower and less able than everyone else around me… it weighed on me, more than I acknowledged. And to have Horace tell me I was powerful and capable—it reminded me how much I'd missed by not growing up with my big brother and my magical birth family. Junie had told me that Horace had carried me around when I was a baby, explaining everything to me. Now was my chance to make up for some of that lost time.

  I took a deep breath and nodded. "All right. What do I do first?"

  "Find a source of power."

  I closed my eyes and nodded. The thumping bass beat of the bar beside us called to me. I drew it in.

  "Good. Now imagine being a, hm, a moth. Picture it. But then also imagine being it. You have wings at your back, you're small, the breeze blows you around—try to feel it."

  I scrunched my eyes tighter and did as he said. A breeze came up, magic swept around me, and my eyes flew open. "Did I do it?"

  Horace gasped and took a step back, his eyes wide.

  I blinked. "What?" I looked down at my body. "Oh." I'd half succeeded. Writhing insect legs stuck out of my torso and thick tawny fur blanketed my human arms. I patted my face and poked myself in the eye—one of four eyes it seemed. I looked back at Horace. Well, I'd startled a real reaction out of him. I'd take that as a certain kind of success. I grinned and a long, rolled-up straw thing tumbled out of my mouth.

  Horace turned green. "It's worse when you smile." He looked like he might be sick. "Try again."

  I chuckled and closed my eyes. It took a few more tries, but I learned more quickly and easily than I'd expected to, and soon had the transformation spell down. I had to admit, Horace was a great teacher. Not that Hank wasn't, I just tended to get distracted by his broad shoulders and sparkling blue eyes.

  Horace hired us a couple of camels and we rode out toward the base of Damavash Volcano. It loomed above us, its blue veins pulsing in the dark night sky. Glowing white tents formed the camp that housed Urs and his officers, along with some other wedding guests.

  "The tribes are always clamoring for power," Horace explained as we rode. "Some want to maintain some independence from the city and stay out here. Others believe that by staying in the riad, close to the king, they're be able to have more influence on him."

  I frowned as I thought about that rude guy from the feast the night before. "Like Ario Tuk."

  He nodded. "King Benam is weak. The tribes, the most aggressive and vocal of them, are the real power in the kingdom.”

  We reached the camp and dismounted, leaving our camels to graze on the far side of the oasis pool. We then crept quietly toward the tents. I led Horace to the one that had been Bernhardt's.

  "I don't know where Urs's tent is, but it's probably nearby." My voice came out as barely a whisper, but Horace nodded that he'd heard. We moved through the camp. A shadow passed across the canvas of a tent at my right. I froze until the creak of springs signaled that the person inside had gone to bed. The light flicked out a moment later. I let out the breath I'd been holding. Soon we spotted a ring of tents with a picnic table situated in the center. Several men in black military uniforms sat at the table, eating out of tin plates and playing a dice game.

  Horace lifted his chin toward them, his full lips pressed together. "My guess is Urs is in the one they keep glancing toward."

  I frowned. I hadn't noticed anything like that. I watched more closely. Sure enough, one of the men rolled the dice, then threw his fists in the air and bellowed something in German. His friend slapped his arms down and they all glanced to the left of the circle, toward a tent lit up from within by shifting gold firelight.

  I sniffed and shook my head at Horace in amazement. "You see everything, don't you?"

  "More than most, maybe." He flashed his eyes at me. "You're up."

  I hesitated a moment, then jumped. "Oh. Right." Nerves raced through me, and I shivered. Okay. I could do this.

  "Focus, Imogen."

  I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I sensed energy coming from the breeze that blew through the desert valley and made the tent fabric snap. I drew from it, imagined what I wanted to become, and—whoosh!

  I felt as though I'd been caught in a whirlwind, then suddenly spit out. Everything was different. I hovered midair, my tiny moth wings fluttering as my six legs dangled beneath me. I did a quick loop-de-loop. Horace was right, flying was amazing. I rose up in the air to Horace's height, where his giant pale blue eyes took up the entire horizon.

  "Go. And Imogen… be careful."

  I hesitated. He wasn't coming with me? I'd just assumed he would.

  "I can't enter that tent, for reasons I won't go into just now. But go, you'll do fine." Horace stared at me. "And remember—focus."

  Right. I had to keep pulling energy from the breeze, or whatever source I chose, to fuel the transformation. If I lost my concentration and stopped, I'd turn back into myself, or maybe that weird moth-human hybrid version of myself. I took a deep breath and fluttered away. I spun and twirled and bobbed on the breeze, feeling light and free. I landed on the side of the tent and rubbed my front legs together, cleaning them and the bristly hairs that covered my body. It was strange, how my mind seemed to be human, and yet some moth instincts seemed to come with the package. And lucky for me, too, because a moment later I sensed a change in the air. I launched and took flight, narrowly avoiding the giant bat that swooped overhead and barely missed me.

  In my head, I screamed as I zipped to the tent flaps and darted inside. I looped right, then dipped down, and finally arced to the wall opposite the entrance and landed on the canvas of the tent. My tiny heart pounded as I caught my breath. That had been close. Not that the coast was clear now. I shuffled and spotted Urs Volker at his desk. We'd guessed right. Only a pen, calendar, and one stack of paper
s, all at right angles to each other, interrupted the open plain of the desktop. Everything, from the perfect corners on his bedsheets to the straight part of Urs's hair, screamed order and discipline. A fountain pen magically scratched away at a piece of paper.

  A low voice spoke from outside and Urs barked, "Enter." The pen stopped and hovered in midair.

  An officer in a black uniform ducked into the tent, then stood before Urs with his shoulders squared.

  "Yes?" Urs prompted.

  "Varden Volker. Za medical examiner's report." The officer handed over a manila folder.

  Urs opened it and pulled out some papers. A line formed between his brows and he rubbed his hand over his mouth. He read aloud as his eyes skimmed the report. "Shtrangled to death… crushed trachea." Urs shook his head. "Characteristic damage from oon choke holdt. Somevone used hees own fighting technique against him."

  "Sir?" The officer hesitated, then spoke again. "Somevone trained een your technique killt him?" He took a sharp intake of air. "Vone of us?"

  Urs didn't answer for a moment. A burst of laughter from the men playing dice outside interrupted the tense silence. Then he looked up at the officer. "Zis doesn't leaf zis tent, ees zat understoodt?"

  "Couldn't eet haf been magic?" the officer tried.

  Urs shook his head. "I put za security shpells een place myself. Hee had an emergency shpell, one zat negated anyvone from using magic een hees room besides heemself or I. I checked za scene and found he had deployt it, meaning somevone used zer bare hands to keel heem."

  A choke hold? I pictured Madeline L'Orange or Lilya trying to choke Bernhardt out and it didn't fit. They were both slender and small, and would probably have a hard time even getting their arms around his thick neck. This had to be a man then… or someone strong and deadly enough to overpower the large and highly trained Beckham. Urs seemed guiltier than ever and I flushed with gratitude toward Horace for teaching me how to transform and encouraging me to trust my ability to do so. What a natural big brother. I'd have to tell him so once I got out of here, even though he'd probably feel uncomfortable with the compliment. I grinned to myself. He'd just have to get used to it. Whoops! I caught my mind drifting and remembered Horace's words. I needed to focus, to be one with the moth.